


Opposing Elements

by scribeofmorpheus



Category: Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Angst, F/F, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Heroes & Heroines, Jealousy, Lies, Life in Prison, Opposites Attract, Oscorp - Freeform, Other, Pining, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Pre Far From Home, Precious Peter Parker, Secret Identity, Spider Man - Freeform, Terminal Illnesses, Villans, lovers to..., spiderman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 11:44:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19790203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribeofmorpheus/pseuds/scribeofmorpheus
Summary: "We’re incompatible, like two opposing elements. If we are combined together the results could be catastrophic. We would destroy each other and everyone around us, in one glorious hot, white flash!"(I had found this scribbled in one of my old notebooks and it inspired this series.)Summary:In which the reader is an alternate version of Marvel’s Black Cat, AKA Felicia Hardy, and their origin story gets tied up with their former best friend, Peter Parker’s alter ego Spider-Man when she plans to jailbreak her father from prison. Lies, terrible excuses and unspoken feelings place Peter and Felicia on unstable, uncertain ground.ON HOLD





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> ****A/N:** **Despite being a reader insert, the character’s name is still Felicia Hardy instead of using the "Y/N" abbreviation. **  
> **  
> [_-Felicia Hardy Aesthetic_ ](https://scribeofmorpheus.tumblr.com/post/177976376210/feliciaaesthetic)  
>   
> 

  


The prison walls were as bleak as you had imagined. The pale grey reminded you of depressing storm clouds that blocked out the sun and left you feeling cold and alone -surrounded by darkness. Ironically, the lighting was so intense you had almost wished they allowed you to bring your bag in with you so you could fetch out your sunglasses. But sunglasses indoors was hardly appropriate. This prison design, however, very appropriate.

The colourless walls, sterile stench and cold surface of every piece of furniture felt like they were designed to make the inmates yearn for sunlight and warmth. Yearn for freedom. The lighting, on the other hand, felt like it was set to such an intensity that it would make them want to retreat to the comfort of a dimly lit room. Again, a jab at the freedom they lost. It was a little cruel, or perhaps you were just reading too much into things.

You had been sitting on the opposite side of the glass panel for nearly 10 minutes. It was making you jittery and your mind was doing acrobatics trying to distract you from thinking about what exactly you were doing here.

You had lied to your mother about going to the library to catch up on everything you missed due to transferring schools so late in the semester. In reality, you had taken the number 9 bus to New York Prison to see your father. Ever since your move back to Queens from France, you had debated whether or not to go and see him.  


He was arrested when you were barely into your teens. Your mother said he was falsely accused of trying to steal information from Oscorp. Corporate Espionage it’s called. But really she had made the whole thing up in order to spare you and your little brother the horror and shame of knowing your father wasn't a travelling salesman working on behalf of Oscorp. The truth was much simpler -and much more heart-wrenching. He was a thief, and apparently a good one in his day. The newspapers had taken to calling him The Cat. That's why your mother went through all the trouble of moving you to another continent and changing your last name from 'Hardy' to 'Harmon', so you'd never find out -so you'd never suffer the consequences of being the daughter of a convicted felon at school.

You sighed. Your palms getting sweaty, either from anticipation or anxiety. Sitting all poised and composed on the cold, uncomfortable steel of the prison chairs was making you feel on edge.

You wondered what you'd say to your mother if she found out about this little-unsanctioned trip. What she'd say to the fact you had forged her signature on a consent form for prison visitation since you weren't legally an adult yet. Or, worse yet, how her face would contort from disappointment and sadness at you doing something so reckless. Whatever was to come, you'd just have to endure it. You couldn't just stay at home and act all ignorant to the truth now. Especially not after reading that damned, stupid letter.

"Lissia?"

You had been so lost in thought, you hadn't heard the clanking of metal chains and awkward shuffling of feet when your father finally emerged from behind the impenetrable metal doors on the other side of the two-way glass. But after hearing your old nickname -one that hadn't been uttered in years- you snapped out of your thoughts so fast you felt like you'd just been through a harrowing roller coaster ride.

The moment your eyes locked was the moment reality finally started to set in. All the years lost between you two; all the stolen birthdays and Christmases never to be regained; all the school basketball games he missed and gymnastics tournaments he couldn't watch from crowded bleacher stands, it all came crashing down on the both of you when you noticed how badly he aged.

"D-Dad?" You hadn't meant for it to come out as a question, for that you felt guilty.

"Look at you," He smiled a sad smile that made the wrinkles around his eyes more obvious. The guard beside him unfastened his chains. He sat down and made a 'Thank You' gesture to the guard. "You've grown so much. I-I don't know what to… Does your mother know you’re here?"

Why was he so damn inquisitive? You knew he already knew the answer to that question, he just wanted to hear you say it. You looked down at your hands, surprised by the fact you didn't notice then balled into fists. Your knuckles were almost turning white. You were silently grateful this prison didn't have those annoying phones to talk through otherwise, you probably would have crumbled it in your hands.

"No." You looked into his eyes. Your eyes. You'd forgotten you had the same eyes. Sure you looked at pictures all the time, but pictures never really captured all the detail. "I came because I read your letter. The one you sent mom. The one that made us move back to Queens. The one she tried to keep from me and Frankie."

Your father didn't say anything. He just looked down at his prison number etched on his prison garb and sighed. As though the numbers would start counting back to zero and all this would turn out to be a dream. The silence weighed heavy in a room filled with other indistinct voices, exchanging meaningful conversations filled with empty words.

"How long?" You asked.

"You never should have read that letter. _I never should have written it_ " That last part was directed towards himself.

"How long dad?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling for the right words before he cleared his throat.

"Don't know. Doctors said it could be a couple months," your breath hitched. "Or, a couple years. That's how it is with cancer, you can never really tell."

You blinked back the tears and wished for a glass of water to get rid of the dry feeling tickling your throat. You didn't think this through. You didn't think to prepare yourself for waterworks and emotional breakdowns in this damned depressing, grey prison while your father would sit so close to you and yet still be out of reach. You were a stubborn, strong-headed fool and now you wished you had at least prepared a list of questions of topics to bring up.

"Then, I guess we better make the best of the time we have now."

And even though it took all your strength to smile a fake smile and tilt your head in such a way that you could let the lights above you burn your retinas to keep from crying, the only thing running through your head was the fact you needed to get him out of the place that was slowly killing him.  


Guilty or not, you would find a way to rescue Walter Hardy from his fate.

***

When you got home it was a little after dark and you noticed your mother had just finished unpacking all the boxes marked 'Kitchen'. You groaned in exhaustion knowing you had to finish unpacking your own room. A note was stuck on the fridge with a tacky Captain America magnet that read:

_"Dinner in the fridge. It's take-out. Took Frankie for Ice-cream. Mom."_

You couldn't bring yourself to eat, so instead you went to your room and started unpacking a box marked 'Trophies.’

***

By the time you were done unpacking all your boxes and putting all your clothes in their respective drawers and hangers, it was almost 7:30.

"Shit." You scurried around looking for your favourite jeans and jumper you had set aside for school. By the time you found them your room was left in a mess and you silently mourned the brief time it was all tidy and organised -which lasted all but 10 minutes.

In the kitchen, you were greeted by the smell of hot coffee and slightly burnt toast. Your mother was making Frankie his breakfast while he was otherwise preoccupied with homework he seemed to have forgotten all about. His nose scrunched up in frustration as his legs swung impatiently on the high chair he was sitting on.

"Did you forget to do your homework, Silly Goose?" You peppered his cheek with kisses which he found annoying.

"Go away. I'm _trying_ to work here." He groaned.

You peaked at his math problems scribbled in the most untidy handwriting you'd ever seen.

_Well, second most untidy handwriting you've ever seen_ , you corrected yourself.

"Let’s see… That’s 64, then 34, 27, 104, and lastly 0.4445. Actually just round that off to 0.45, two decimal places was the default when I was your age."

"How did you do that so fast?" Frankie looked up at you both bemused and a little jealous.

"I'm a nerd." You proclaimed as you ruffled his hair and made your way to the pot of coffee next to the burnt toast.

"Gimmie that good caffeine!" You exclaimed with your trademark morning zombie voice.

"You not staying for breakfast?" Your mother asked as she finished scrambling the eggs in a pan.

More out of habit than necessity, you looked down at your watch and responded, "Nah, I might miss the bus, don’t wanna be late. Wouldn't want to have the same reputation as Sleepy-Head over there." You pointed your cup of coffee in Frankie’s direction. "Having one tardy kid is one thing, but two? Absolute anarchy if you ask me."

Frankie stuck out his tongue at you.

"You sure you want to go to school wearing that?" Your mother motioned her spatula at your hoodie.  


You tsked at your own absent-mindedness. _'La Academie des Sciences: Vainqueur du Championnat de la division science 2015 Europe tour,'_ was written in bright yellow print on the back of your purple hoodie, your former school’s crest printed on the left breast pocket.

“Not the best way to show team spirit for your new school by rocking the hoodie that basically shouts: _‘My school got into the national science championship tour and yours didn't!’_ " You said with whimsy.  


You shake your head before you gulp down the scalding coffee in one swift motion, "Can't be helped. If I look for another jumper I'll definitely be late and it's not like we've been shopping recently so chances are I won't find anything decent to wear anyway. I'll buy a new one later this week."

Your mother didn't bother arguing with your logic. You pecked her on the cheek and practically ran out the door with your book back secured over one shoulder.

***

You hated new schools. Sure they held the promise of new adventures and new friends to make but it could also be exhausting. Being the new kid wasn’t really hard, at least during that period everyone was always much easier to talk to but, on the other hand, you had to memorise new timetables and try to navigate the layout of overly complicated hallways.  


It was all a mixed bag of emotions.

Your eyes were practically glued to the school map on your phone. You looked for the room marked _AP Chemistry_ , you stared so intensely that you were certain people would interpret your focus as anger or annoyance. You were just anxious. And not really comfortable stumbling around in a hallway filled with strangers bumping into you every other second without as much as an "I'm sorry" or "Pardon me". Instead, it was all "Watch where you’re going", "Look up", and "Felicia?"

_Wait, what?_ Your head shot up.  


Had Someone really shouted your name? Unlikely since you hadn't done the awkward stand-in-front-of-a-class-and-introduce-yourself gimmick yet. So then how would someone know your name?  


You passed it off as someone else in this larger crowd having a similar name as yours and continued down your way.

"Fel-- Felicia!"

Okay, now you were certain someone had just shouted your name. You turned in the direction of the voice and ware completely taken aback by who the voice belonged.

"Parker? Petey Parker, small world." Your face lit up at the sight of your old best bud from middle school.

Without so much as a warning or notice, Peter rushed to your side after confirming it was indeed his former best friend, and nearly suffocated you in a bear-like embrace.

He laughed. It almost sounded strange. Almost.

"Never thought I'd see you again. Definitely not sporting enemy colours in my school anyway." He gestured to your jumper.

Damn, you knew someone would bring that up. Well, someone who could read French anyway.  


"Well, I aim to please, or rather defy expectations. And look at you," You punched his forearm playfully, "And to think I was actually worried about your scrawny ass when I left. I guess now you go around doing all the bullying from the looks of things. What, did you chug steroids or something? Poor Aunt May, her only nephew dragged down by a serious case of roid-rage." You retorted sarcastically.

He laughed again, running his hands through his brown hair. You mused at the fact that Peter actually took the time to style it in such a way that he could get away with pretending he didn't spend an hour fiddling with it in the mirror.

"You know it,” he flashed a cheesy smile. “I'm on the football team too... And the prom committee." He quipped sarcastically.

You were a little surprised by that. The old Peter would have blushed tomato-red and shuffled his feet about, unsure of how to reply. That's how it had been back then. You the tough, foul-mouthed tomboy and him the sweet, brainy kid with a heart of gold. He was your conscience, keeping you from getting into too much trouble and you were his force-field of protection. You made a good team with a simple dynamic. Now, however, you were made all too aware of another relationship that was forced to change with time and distance.  


Peter was different, slightly more confident, though he was still blushing a little. Maybe he hadn't changed that much.

"If you tell me you're dating a cheerleader too, I'll feign passing out and you'll have the luxury of dragging me by my ankles to the nurse’s room."

He played your sarcasm off by shrugging and making a gesture with his arms that looked like he was daring you to, yet there was a slight twang of sadness, or maybe it was regret, in his warm brown eyes. You decided to put this exchange of banter to rest before it got too weird.

Suddenly, from behind Peter's noticeably larger shoulders, you heard a slurping noise. You peered around him to see a Falstaffian-esque boy about the same age as Peter.  


"Ah, right. Ned this is Felicia, she used to be my trusted knight. Kept all the fiends at bay when I was in middle school."

Ned had this expression on his face like he was surprised Peter knew anyone of the female sex besides Aunt May. He flung his hand at Peter’s stomach a little too forcefully, making Peter wince a little -both actions on purpose.

"Why have you never told me you had another best friend before me? I feel so betrayed." He said in jest. "Great to meet you, Peter has told me nothing about you." He gave a small wave.

"Likewise."

The bell rang and you had to stop yourself from cursing out loud. Peter and Ned's presence suddenly making you aware of your bad habit of swearing needlessly.

"And there goes my grand plan of not being late to any classes on my first day. Guess that rules out a career as a tenacious mastermind with great planning skills, huh?"

"Nah, in this town all you need is a cheesy name, a bird costume and some animatronic wings and you're gold!" Ned joked. That look in Peter's eye returned and you didn't bother asking Ned to elaborate, mainly because you didn't want to seem like you were a stranger to Queens despite growing up there, even though all your years abroad meant that’s exactly what you were now: a stranger in your old neighbourhood.

"Hey what's your first class? We can walk you there." Peter offered.

"Really? Petey Parker doesn't mind being late to class?" You teased.

"Boy, you don't know the half of it. This guy is practically a full-fledged felon now. He's seen the inside of the detention room and everything. Might as well call him John Bender now." This time it was your turn to wince at the mention of the word 'felon'.

"Nah, I think I'm more of the Andrew Clark member of the group. You know, because I'm on the football team and all that."

"Oh, does that make MJ, Allison?" Ned jabbed. Peter shoved his friend playfully and rolled his eyes. There was that damn cute blush again.

"AP Chemistry."

"What?" Ned and Peter said in unison.

"My first class. It's AP Chemistry."

"That's great. Ours too. Guess no one's going to detention after all." Ned said gleefully.

"Bummer." You deadpanned.

The three of you made your way down the nearly empty hallway.

"Who's MJ?" You couldn't stop yourself from asking. Whether out of curiosity from wanting to know everything your former best friend had been up to, or because of the uncomfortable way your heart sank when you noticed him blush at the mention of her name, you couldn't be sure.

"You'll probably meet her at lunch. Ya' know. If you stick with the cool kids." Ned tried and failed at sounding all gangster. This made you chuckle. Peter kept his eyes ahead, lost in thought.


	2. A Promise to Keep

You had been afraid that being back in Queen's would leave you feeling out of place. Like a ghost retracing its steps. Only everything had changed, and so had you. Most days you felt like an outsider, but others you felt like you had never left in the first place. Like your dad wasn't behind bars and your last name was still Hardy. Peter was the main reason behind that.

Yes, both of you had changed, but there were also days when you'd revert back to that hot-headed tomboy who had no regard for rules or authority and yet was somehow as thick as thieves with the most earnest do-gooder in school.

When you were younger, you had been foolish enough to think that was how it was always going to be, you and him against the world, everyone else be damned. Not any more though.

You, Peter, Ned and MJ sat together in the cafeteria. You played with your food a little, your nerves had driven away any feeling of hunger and replaced it with an uncomfortable knot in your stomach.

MJ had her nose in some obnoxiously large book. You remember skimming over its premise and scoffing at how overly complicated and serious it sounded.

Ned and Peter, on the other hand, were having an animated conversation in hushed tones like it was about some top-secret government clandestine mission. It bugged you.

To be perfectly honest you were a little jealous of Ned. He had that same kind of relationship you and Peter used to have, only he wasn't constantly keeping Peter on his toes by picking fights or bad mouthing someone to their face. He was a painful reminder of that closeness you had lost and that Peter had moved on after you left. He didn't need you to fight his battles or be his best friend anymore. You wondered what exactly he did need you for, if at all.

"They do that a lot," MJ said, eyes fixed firmly on her small print book.

You looked up in question as to what she was referring to.

"They get all secretive and whisper sweet nothings in each other’s ears while others are left to sit idly by feeling all awkward and left out!" MJ exclaimed in a tone that you could only describe as monotone.

Her book closed shut on the table as she loomed over them like a shadow wraith come to life, her eyes squinted ever so slightly. You pretended to choke on some food as you tried to keep yourself from laughing. Peter and Ned looked wide-eyed and terrified, taken totally off guard by MJ's dramatic outburst in the cafeteria. Everyone else didn't seem to have noticed -no, it felt like they didn't much care to notice the table of weirdo's and their antics.

A second later, MJ's face beamed with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes as she plopped back down onto the bench, but not before reaching over to steal one of Peter's cookies. She tucked her nose back into her book as though nothing had happened.

"What was that about?" Ned asked, still wide-eyed.

"She's got a point you know," You stuck out your empty fork and pointed to the both of them, "You two lovebirds have a tendency to make people feel like they aren't included, all hushed whispers and lame excuses to cut class and--"

"We're working on a science project. Ned and I keep disagreeing on how to handle a certain… problem that has come up. Unexpectedly. That's all." Peter interjected before you could finish your rant.

From the look in his eyes, you could tell he did it on purpose. He always used to let you tire yourself out when you went into a frustrated rant, now he was actively putting out the fire before it spread. And now you were cursing at yourself for noticing yet another shift in your old dynamic.

"Well unless this science project is never ending or has to do with solving string theory, or whatever you dweebs do, then there's no reason for that to still be a viable excuse after all this time," MJ challenged. Her eyebrow raised in a cocky manner, head tilted to the side to let a loose curl collide with an eyelash.

She was pretty smart. She was pretty too. There was something about the way she looked at Peter, in that playful, challenging manner, that made you feel a little out of place. If you were being honest, you kept feeling like the awkward third wheel. Fourth wheel if you included Ned.

Ned gave Peter a not so subtle nudge, lost for words. And Peter reacted to it on instinct.

Yeah, you definitely have to include Ned.

"It's ahh- It's actually not a science project exactly," both you and MJ, and even Ned, gave Peter a curious look. It felt like all four of you were about to find out some deep dark secret of his. "B-but..." He stammered, all too aware of three pairs of eyes boring into him, "It does involve science, just not school science. Well, all science is school science, it's more of a--"

"Jesus freaking Christ Petey, spit it out already!"

"The project is for the Oscorp internship!" Ned jumped the gun and finished Peter's sentence for him. It was like when you remember something vital after scrambling for a while. For the briefest second Peter had a dumbfounded expression on his face and then it was gone and replaced with the gleeful smile only a do-gooder schoolboy like him could project. You rolled your eyes. These boys were not subtle.

"Wait, you guys are buying into that pretentious, corporate snob fest?" MJ asked.

"I thought you had your hands full with the Stark internship anyway?" You eyed Ned and Peter suspiciously, "No offence to your big brain but… You suck at time management Petey."

"No, no-" Peter waved his arms about, "I'm not the one applying."

"So you're competing for an internship you're not even planning on applying for?" MJ asked condescendingly.

Ned raised his finger as though he were about to interject with an 'as a matter of fact' fact, but his mouth hung open for a few seconds as he fumbled for the right words. Peter's eyes widened like he realized something and pointed at Ned.

"I'm not applying, yes, but Ned is." He beamed proudly.

Ned whipped his head so fast you got whiplash from it.

"I'm applying?" Ned seemed dumbfounded and Peter, noticing this, nodded his head suggestively. "Oh, yes. I'm applying, yes," Ned added after a short pause.

MJ made an 'Uh-huh' noise from behind her book, although it was laced with her regular dose of sarcasm.

You were beginning to notice how strained Peter and Ned looked, this conversation was somehow demanding more brain power than normal. You smirked and took a bite of your lunch. As entertaining as watching them squirm was, you thought it best to save them from their fumbling about.

"What is this Oscorp internship thing anyway?" You asked, pretending not to notice the odd behaviour of your friends sat across from you. This time, unfortunately, it was your turn to be at the mercy of three pairs of eyes looking all shocked and confused by your question as they bore down on you.

"You don't know about the Oscorp internship?" All three of them said simultaneously, although MJ sounded less enthusiastic and more sarcastic than Ned and Peter. Whatever it was, MJ didn't seem to care much for it.

Suddenly, to your relief, the jarring sound of the bell rang signalling the end of Lunch.

"And with that, I must bid you adieu. Shakespeare beckons." MJ got up to leave, eyes still glued to her book. You were half expecting her to trip or slam into someone, but she gracefully slunk away into the rush of fellow students, disappearing into the noise and colours.

"Wait. MJ. Does. Drama?" You took a beat after each word to emphasise your shock at that discovery.

"And so do I," Ned chimed in, "I'm off to save Shakespeare from MJ."

You all laughed at that as Ned retreated in the same direction as MJ.

"Do you have Drama too?" You nudged Peter's chest with your elbow expecting the familiar feel of bony ribs, but instead, your elbow grazed against firm muscle. Peter let out a breathy guffaw as colour pooled to his cheeks. For some reason this made you blush a little, and now you felt awkward about the whole thing. This was a new development, both the blush and the awkwardness, for both of you.

"Thankfully, for everyone else’s sake, no. I can't keep a secret to save my life, I'd probably leak the script by accident." He joked.

"Don't sell yourself short," before you could stop yourself the words had already escaped your lips and travelled at the speed of sound in Peter's direction. His brow furrowed and head drooped down.

"Shit," you cursed yourself, hiding the words behind a fake sneeze. You never wanted to call him out on his weird, secretive behaviour. Especially since you had no right to be offended by it.

_“Quick, think of something to cover it up! Think! Damn you, stupid brain.”_

A lightbulb went off in your brain, "You'd probably only leak the cover page, or you know, memorise the wrong script." Your laugh was shaky and a little forced but Peter seemed to buy it since his spirits lifted and he let out a soft chuckle of his own.

"Yeah, probably."

"Well I have English Lit, it's in the same direction as History… I think?" you tried to summon the map of the school from the depths of your memory but you were still having a hard time memorising the layout, even though you had spent a whole week trying.

Peter noticed you struggling to remember, "Yeah that's right. Walk together?" He offered.

You nodded enthusiastically, linking your arm in his as you walked in the direction of the Humanities block. Peter offered to carry your book bag, but you declined. You were too independent to let someone carry something you could manage on your own. Even so, this brought a smile to your lips and a feeling of warmth in your heart that made the anxiety gnawing at your stomach to dissipate.

"You can enlighten me all about this Oscorp internship since you guys looked at me like some Flat Earther that doesn't believe in gravity." You jested.

Peter laughed as he ran his free hand through his hair.

"It's this huge event that happens every year. Students with a high enough GPA enter into a science competition. There is a limited number of slots, so it gets very competitive."

You whistled trying to look all serious, "Knowing you nerds it's probably a life or death type situation. Ruthless cutthroats, the lot of ya'." Your accent slipped and for some unknown reason took on a sudden southern twang at the end.

Peter scoffed, "You're one to talk Miss Wild West Outlaw."

You punched him in the chest at his making fun of your verbal slip making him wince unexpectedly.

"I didn't hit you that hard, Mr Sensitive."

"Old bruise," he explained. You looked up at him, eyebrows raised, fists clenched and jaw set. He realised the train of thought you'd jumped on before you had the chance to voice your concerns -and anger. "It's not like that. I told you I joined the football team. I haven't had any run-ins with bullies since… well since the whole robot invasion thing."

Bull, you knew he wasn't on the football team. You wanted to punch him in the same spot that made him wince for trying to joke about the origins of this mysterious bruise.

"Peter-"

"I fell, at the gym, knocked some equipment lying around."

You sighed in relief at hearing that, he did too for some odd reason.

"Then why didn't you say that?"

"I guess, I was embarrassed." The way he said those words sounded like an admission of defeat. Like he didn't want you to know about the bruise or perhaps it was because it wasn't as easy for him to open up to anymore.

"Embarrassed to tell your best bud about tripping over your two left feet?" You froze unable to believe you had actually called yourself his 'best bud'.

You weren't delusional. You knew yours and Peter's was a close relationship, but you'd lost the endearment of 'best' anything when you left Queens. Some people's relationships withstood the test of time and distance. They were lucky, they could just jump back into each other’s lives like nothing happened. But you had changed too much and Peter seemed to have gone through a metamorphosis of his own. The secrets, the growth spurt, always seeming like his mind was preoccupied like he was in two places at once -even that bruise, these were all just the remnants of that metamorphosis. You wondered if you'd ever get the chance to see what he changed into. If he'd trust you enough to see under this weird wall of mystery he'd erected in your absence.

The two of you had been quiet for some time, you lost in thought and Peter just as equally preoccupied with his own thought. You felt as though you were locked in a room with no exit and only each other’s no-longer-comfortable-silence, even though the two of you were the furthest thing from alone. Around you, the halls were teeming with other students ruffling through lockers and making their way to their respective classes.

"So what is it?" You said, breaking the silence.

Peter hummed at you in question, not exactly sure what 'it' was.

"The special, super-secret project you and Ned are working on for the Oscorp internship, what is it?"

"A secret." Peter gave you a devilish grin and a cheeky wink. You rolled your eyes.

"Hey uh, I wasn't going to pry but..." Peter ran his hands through his hair again, an obvious habit. "At lunch, you barely ate, you seemed bothered by something."

You kept your head down as your tongue ran over your teeth. You had hoped no one noticed. You wanted to tell Peter everything, starting with the truth about your father and why you moved back. You wanted to tell him how you'd gone to the prison in secret to talk to your father -a man you recently discovered was never wrongfully imprisoned, but an actual felon. But, more than anything, you wanted someone to confide in. Especially since you had promised to see him again this week. Frankly, you were surprised the prison had not notified your mother about your visit.

Your eyes skirted about the large hallway plastered with thousands of colourful flyers and audition sign-up sheets. You saw a flyer with the headline 'Sign Up for Gymnastics Team All Week after 5th Period!' Bingo.

"Gymnastics. I'm nervous about auditioning for the gymnastics team." You lied. "Tryouts are this afternoon."

He leaned his head closer to you, his face all serious, "In that case, be terrified. Don't they twirl batons and jump kick people? I'd be terrified."

"Maybe cheerleading would be less of a health risk. I could even be your personal cheer machine during the games." You retorted, but at your mention of cheerleader, Peter had that look in his eye. The one from before, when you first made some terrible joke involving cheerleaders. His eyes had a twang of sadness or guilt, you still couldn't distinguish which it was. Before you could press him about it, Peter had suddenly stopped and unlinked your arms.

"We're here, Milady." He waved his left arm and gave a bow, "I believe this is the room from which you will draft those cheers?" The question was both sarcastic and rhetorical. Damn, he was getting good at deflecting.

Despite the seriousness in the air, you couldn't help but snort at his overly flamboyant performance. He used a particularly believable British accent too. Maybe he should take Drama. You decided it best if you don't play along, your English accent was atrocious.

"Yes, well knowing me, those cheers would probably consist of words of such profanity I'd probably be heralded as the greatest menace this school has ever seen. Although on the plus side it would do wonders for my infamous reputation as Miss Wild West Outlaw."

Peter laughed and so did you.

"I'll see you later." Peter waved.

You walked into your English Lit class and took a seat at the back of the classroom, not paying much attention to any of your classmates or your teacher.

 _“Great! Now I have to audition for the gymnastics team,”_ your less-amused-self scolded you.

You sighed. Keeping secrets was more exhausting than you'd like. With school, your new (old) friends and your secret visits with your dad, you were stretched thin as it was. Adding an after-school club to the roster of things to juggle wasn't going to help. Although, having a new excuse besides spending your days catching up at the library would be plenty beneficial. Besides, it's not like you'd have any problems with the audition, you were the reigning champion of your old team for two years straight. On the other hand, it would take precious time away from you, time you weren't sure how to divide evenly among all the rising chaos in your life.

You sank further in your chair as your eyes wandered to the world beyond the window. Away from the classroom. Away from everything.

***

The rest of the day had passed by in a slump. The classes were long and your craving for caffeine made you cranky. When the time for try-outs came you'd hoped to see Peter on the bleachers, but he was nowhere to be found. Instead, you were surprised to find MJ there, pretending not to care. When one of the co-captains asked if she was going to try and audition, she looked her in the eye and gave her a bold "No" in response. When asked why she even came to the try-outs, she said it was to "watch the show". You had a feeling MJ's niche humour and deadpan attitude would grow on you. She elicited a few laughs from the crowd before she made a finger-guns motion in your direction. Her way of saying 'You got this'.

After auditions -which you more than impressed at- Ned had given you a congratulatory party-popper scare when he set a few off in the gym and exclaimed "Run!" when one of the coaches noticed. Afterwards, he had berated MJ for leading him to believe you were auditioning with the cheerleaders, seemingly disappointed at having missed your little performance of athletic prowess. MJ explained to him that it wasn't her fault he wasn't paying attention to her after she uttered 'cheerleader'.

They're bickering provided an opportunity you couldn't pass up.

"Hey what's up with Peter and cheerleaders?" You interrupted.

"What do you mean? They're cheerleaders. All guys have a-" MJ hit Ned with her hefty book before he could finish.

"Don't be an idiot. She meant why her freezes like a deer in headlights every time someone brings up anything to do with Liz!" She exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh!" Ned's lips stayed in the shape of an O for far too long, like he forgot his mouth was open.

He quickly scurried to find his phone and pretended to be busy with some game. It didn't matter. You got all the information you needed out of his weird reaction and MJ's passive-aggressive outburst. Seems like she too had noticed Peter's weird reaction around the subject. You eyed her from the corner of your eye. She seemed a little troubled. You wished you could chalk her reaction up to her weird character, but it almost seemed like she was harbouring some grudge against this Liz person.

"Let me guess, Liz is the ex, but because that isn't Shakespearean enough we need to add a forbidden romance element to it,” You declared, trying to lighten the mood by spinning some dramatic tale, “See, Liz was also a cheerleader, and our Queen B was undoubtedly popular. Hence, the forbidden element: The Popular Cheerleader and The Goofy Nerd." You surmised jokingly.

"Why does that sound like a plot to a movie I've seen?" Ned asked his attention was fully yours.

MJ facepalmed, "Beccauuuuuseeeee, that's literally the basis of every Shakespearean take on high school romance these days."

"I'm sure I watched it recently too," Ned said, completely ignoring MJ as he rubbed his chin in thought.

"Clueless." You offered.

"You said it." MJ agreed.

"No, the film he's thinking of _is called_ Clueless." This time MJ made an O with her lips, but no sound came with it. "Except it has the added complication of having a pseudo-incestuous element thrown in there. For the added dramatic effect of course."

"Eww," MJ said as her nose crumpled up and her face contorted like she had smelt something awful. You smirked and Ned nodded in agreement, though you didn't know who with.

"Yeah, that's the one, only- was the main character a cheerleader?"

His question left you both stumped and MJ didn't even bother to try to feign interest in this conversation, "Later losers. I'm going to find something more interesting and worthy of my time than film debates." She disappeared effortlessly into the background again.

"And this is where I leave you. I have some errands to run," that was a lie, but Ned didn't seem to notice. You felt a little relieved that Ned wasn't as good at reading people as Peter or MJ.

"When you see Peter, tell him he better come up with a good excuse for missing my audition today. And tell him to practice being believable when he says it." You teased. Ned gulped, looking as though you had just caught him cheating on a test.

***

"How's school?" Your dad asked. His voice still unfamiliar to you.

"Eh, you know. Life draining, boring, torture, absolute hell. One of those stereotypical, angsty-teenage over exaggerations. Take your pick." You were deflecting, just like Peter had done earlier. At least he had the decency to put more effort in his efforts though.

You tightened your jaw. If he had caught onto the fact he had noticed you trying to deflect, he didn't let on. Instead, your father simply gave a tired laugh, exposing his not so white teeth as he scratched at his salt and pepper beard. The action seemed to lift a few years off his weathered face. His eyes seemed to relax a bit more and the lines disappeared with the illusion of youth returning to his face.

It was both a sad and happy moment because even though you knew you were ages away from rescuing your father from his physical prison, it felt like you were mere moments away from saving him from his emotional one. One of loneliness and regret. But then almost with cruel intent, the coughing started and you were left to look on helplessly through the glass separating the two of you. Reminded, yet again, of how little time he had.

When it was over, your father gave you a sad smile and you tried to pretend like you were made of steel, invulnerable to everything. It didn't seem to work though, so you changed the subject back to small talk.

"I got into the gymnastics team today."

"Gymnastics huh? Always thought you were more of a basketball girl, myself."

"Yeah, when I was 8." The words came out sounding more accusatory than you intended. Your father hummed in understanding.

A memory flashed in your mind bringing some brightness with it.

"Do you remember what you said to me after I had lost my first game?" You asked.

He smiled in reminiscence, "You were so angry that you spent most of the evening trying to make impossible trick shots in the backyard. You refused to get back inside until you made 20 consecutive shots. You had reasoned by saying you needed to make-"

"5 shots for every point lost..." You said simultaneously. A feeling of warmth emanating from your heart at the reassurance that he remembered.

"Yes. And I had asked you why you were so determined you'd risk spending all evening outside. And you used my own words against me. You said: 'Never settle for second best.'"

"And I never did. At least, not after you got taken from us anyway." You offered your words like some shroud he could use to draw comfort from. You hoped it was enough. It would have to be.

"Atta' girl." Your father encouraged with what little pride he could muster to show at that moment. You placed your palm to the glass and he did too.

You were determined to find a way to get your father out of prison, determined to restore your family back to the wholesome unit it used to be. That you swore by.


	3. A Crime Fighting Spider-Dude

**Peter’s POV**

Peter was perched atop one of the thousand fire escapes on one of the indistinguishable apartment buildings in Queens. His mask was lifted up from the bottom half of his face as he snacked on a Snickers bar. Legs dangling over the edge like he was a little kid at a play park. He was exhausted, but not from crime fighting, sadly. To his dismay, it was one of the slowest nights he'd had in a while. The most action he'd gotten was saving a cat from a tree. Twice! And it was the same cat.

He had patrolled many dark alleyways and shady corners the last month alone. He and Ned had been slowly working towards finding all the remaining alien tech the Vulture -Adrian Toomes- had repurposed and sold on the black market. It hadn't been easy. Tracking down alien technology was time-consuming and difficult, he and Ned barely had any free time lately. He was a little disappointed that he had to miss attending Felicia's gymnastic try-outs today. He really wanted to be there for her.

"Hey, Karen, anything?" Peter asked the AI in his suit, he was getting impatient.

"Nothing as yet, Peter."

"Great," Peter groaned. He was in need of blowing off some steam. After everything that happened with Liz and her dad, for which he felt partially responsible, Peter had been a little on edge. It didn't help that Aunt May found out about his leading a double life either. She had sworn that if she ever saw him wearing the colours red, blue and white together, on a night that wasn't Halloween where it'd only be acceptable if he dressed as Captain America, she would ground him for life. Either that or she'd slowly kill him with walnut-date loaves. Everything was just so much more complicated now.

With Felicia's return, things just seemed to get even more complicated. He had missed her fiercely when she left, she had been his only friend back then. She was like this unstoppable whirlwind that set its sights on him one day and, for some reason or the other, she had swept him up and carried him away. Away from the bullies and the stolen lunch money. Away from having to think about his parents all the time. She was a force to be reckoned with, but at least then he knew what his feelings for her were. He knew what she had meant to him -and he to her. But now, now they didn't seem to fit so well together anymore. Like two puzzle pieces from two separate puzzles that once looked identical. Turns out they weren't.

To make matters worse keeping secrets from Felicia felt unnatural. When she had asked about the bruise he couldn't bare lying to her face. Not when they stood so close together and she hung her slender arm around his. So the best he could offer her was a half-truth. He had gotten the bruise from falling on gym equipment, the truth was he had gotten the bruise when some hoodlum in possession of a magnetic field generator weapon had flung a piece of gym equipment at him.

Peter sighed, "Anything yet, Karen?"

"No, Peter."

"Oh man! I have so much homework to do. Can't these guys just hurry up and take the bait? I mean it's not like I don't have a life of my own ya' know. Why is it criminals always show up at the most inconvenient of ti--"

"Peter, my scanners have honed in on a frequency. It appears we have some activity," Karen interrupted.

"Yes!" Peter exclaimed excitedly as he pulled the mask over his face completely. He stuffed the candy wrapper in his bag and webbed it to the fire escape. "Let's go re-poses some alien weaponry!"

***

When he reached the source of the frequency, Peter had spotted four guys, all heavily armed with weird looking alien tech. They were loading a truck with duffle bags. They had probably just robbed an ATM or something. Peter mentally scolded himself for failing to stop the robbery before it had occurred.

Peter crawled up to the ceiling from the wall to get to a better vantage point. Once positioned perfectly above them he used his enhanced vision to focus on the gang of criminals.

"Alright, one more score like this and then we're set!" Said the largest of the four, he was without a doubt proud of his winnings.

"Come on, come on! Hurry up! Don't want to be around when the fuzz shows up," one wearing a red bandana around his face hurried the others.

"Or that Spider-Dude," the smallest one added. They all laughed at him. Peter tried not to take much offence.

"Would you like to activate instant kill mode, Peter?" Karen asked innocently.

"W-What, no, no. Karen, we talked about this. No instant kill," Peter panicked for a fleeting second, keeping his voice low so as to avoid detection.

"Acknowledged."

He slowly descended down towards the truck using his retractable web sling. The four men were too preoccupied with stuffing the van to notice Peter was suspended above them. Peter stayed there, hovering above them for a few extra seconds hoping one of them would notice him, but to his chagrin, they didn't.

His second wave of impatience hit him and Peter cleared his throat to garner their attention, "Hey, not to be a buzzkill, but would you guys mind returning all the money you stole?" He quipped childishly.

The big guy pointed his weapon at Peter and fired off a pulse beam, Peter avoided the beam by somersaulting away and landing a few feet away. The surrounding windows of the building screeched in distress before they exploded, the resulting effect was a beautiful yet dangerous shower of microscopic glass shards falling to the ground. Peter shielded himself under some cover.

"I guess that's a no then?"

"You two-" the big guy pointed to the smaller, unarmed two of the group, "-keep loading the truck. We got this," confidence practically oozing off him as he urged his bandana wearing companion to join him in his fight.

If Peter hadn't faced guys twice as dangerous as him, he may have wavered for a second. The smaller guys (including the one who had called him 'Spider-Dude') hurried their efforts to fill the truck with the duffle bags.

"Karen, notify the police, someone's gotta return all that money," Peter ordered.

"The police have been notified."

"Who is he talking to?" The armed man with the bandana asked the bigger guy, who in turn shrugged. He seemed just as confused as his partner in crime.

"Probably hallucinating from all that blood rushing to his brain from hanging upside-down for so long."

" _You're_ familiar with the basic physics concept of gravity weighing down on your organs due to the human body being upside down, thereby crushing your lungs causing asphyxiation which can lead to side effects like hallucinations or blurred vision?" Peter asked in surprise.

The large man didn't answer, he chose to fire off his pulse weapon instead. Peter dodged the energy pulse, barely, with another summersault. He then used one of his webs to swing around and kick him in the back. He went down easy.

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall," Peter said with a cool head and a touch of self-gratification. This was exactly the kind of mind-numbing distraction he needed.

In a moment of hysterics, the other armed man fired his weapon carelessly in a flurry of pulsing attacks. Eventually, the power was too much for one ordinary man to withstand and he was blown away by the very weapon he used to defend himself. Ironic, Peter thought.

In short time he managed to subdue all the criminals and webbed them up in a collective ball to the side of the truck. He was about to make his grand exit when his suit notified him he had an incoming call. The caller ID read: Felicia.

"Would you like to accept the call, Peter?" Karen's constantly calm and composed voice was always hard to adjust to after taking on a few criminals in a rush of adrenaline and aerial kicks.

Peter debated whether or not to take the call, "I- I don't know, maybe? Actually, n- no. I can't talk to her right now. But what if she thinks I'm avoiding her? Or worse, what if she thinks I'm a terrible friend for standing her up twice in one day. First with the auditions and now this phone call… No, I'll just call her and apologise later. Y- Yeah, that's what I'll do."

"The call already went to voicemail," Karen informed him too late.

"Uh, hey! Spider-Dude, are you… are you alright?" Asked the smallest of the four men roped up in the ball of webs. His voice soft and sincere. He was definitely the furthest thing from a hardened criminal, Peter thought.

Peter turned to him, he could feel his cheeks flush from embarrassment, it was a good thing he was wearing a mask. He never meant for anyone to witness his little inner dialogue of indecision with himself, let alone the guys he just strung up. Although, since they were all here and not going anywhere anytime soon, Peter decided to make do with what he was given. He sat cross-legged, facing towards the balled mass of men stuck to the side of the truck, he figured it wouldn't hurt to get a second opinion on his current relationship problems.

"Okay so here's the deal: there's this girl right, we used to be besties back in the day, when we were kids, but then she moved away and things… changed. We both changed. But now she's back and at first, ya' know, I was happy, I got my best friend back and I figured things could go back to the way they used to be. Except, they didn't."

Peter used his hands as visual aids as he moved them about from point A to B to A again actively, the four men were forced to do nothing but listen to him overshare about his current predicament, "To be honest, I don't really understand it. When she's happy, I'm happy and when she's sad I get so exasperated because I can't help her. To make things worse, I have this whole other secret life I can't tell her about and lying to her, even by omission, is killing me!"

"Why don't you just tell her how you feel?" the small guy asked.

"Yeah, just tell her how you feel," one of his companions backed him up.

Peter let out an exasperated sigh, "See, that's the thing, I don't know what it is exactly I feel for her. Don't get me wrong, she's amazing and quick-witted and has a horrible habit of swearing all the time -which I find hilarious… "

"But?"

" _But_ , my last relationship didn't end well and I was somewhat responsible for how things ended. I just- I don't want that to happen with her. I don't want to hurt her, I also don't want to ruin what we have," Peter's head hung low, he didn't realise this had bothered him so much.

"Maybe you should stop trying to control everything and just let her decide," the largest of the men offered. Peter hadn't expected someone like him to say something like that, he was at a loss for words.

"Peter, the authorities are closing in. I recommend leaving now," Karen informed him.

"I gotta jet, thanks for everything. You are all great listeners."

Peter left before any of them could say anything, the distant sounds of the sirens blaring through the wind.

***

Peter climbed through his bedroom window still clad in his suit, he had been so preoccupied with making sure Aunt May didn't see or hear him that when a lively feminine voice spoke out he had nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Spider-Man?" Felicia gasped in utter astonishment.

Peter whipped his head around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, "Wh-What? Who-"

Suddenly he realised his voice still sounded like him. Peter cleared his throat and deepened his voice to an almost comical extent, "Hey, this isn't my apartment!" He tried to sound perplexed.

"Obviously," Felicia said sarcastically.

She squinted her eyes at him, he knew that look, she was definitely thinking up a storm in that brilliant mind of hers. Peter had to find a way to throw her off the scent.

"Uh… “ His mind drew a blank. Peter couldn't think of a smart way to try and explain why exactly Spider-Man was in Peter Parker's bedroom. "I’ll just-" Peter pointed at the window and seconds later he flung himself out of it, leaving Felicia looking on completely flabbergasted.

"What the hell just happened?" Peter heard Felicia ask herself in astonishment.

"Next time, use the fire escape," he spoke out loud to himself. "Oh, shit my backpack!" Peter shouted, his voice normalised, as he swung away from his apartment building back in the direction he came from to pick up the third backpack he had forgotten.


End file.
